NORTHANGER ABBEY: 21st Century America
by Caroline Matheson
Summary: See title. ha. I'm very open to reviewers and editing help. I personally love NA, obviously, but this story's even for those of you who hate it. I'll convert you in no time! :D MUAHAHAHAA. Keep checking in! R
1. Once upon a time there was a nonheroine

**-- Jane Austen's story and inspiration, my twists, my characters --**

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**PROLOGUE: Once Upon a Time There was a Non-Heroine**

"NO ONE WHO HAD EVER SEEN CATHERINE MORLAND IN HER INFANCY, WOULD HAVE SUPPOSED HER BORN TO BE AN HEROINE."  
_-Chapter One of Northanger Abbey_

_"(St John's) own words are a pledge of this - 'My Master,' he says, 'has forewarned me. Daily He announces more distinctly,"Surely I come quickly!" and hourly I more eagerly respond, 'Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus!' "_

I remember that moment like it was yesterday - though it was five years ago. It wasn't my first novel, but it was the beginning of my infatuation. I remember the texture of that page as I smoothed my fingers over it, wishing that it wasn't the final one. I believed that there was no story in the world better than _Jane Eyre_, for it seemed impossible for a book to contain so many secrets, so much mystery, romance so sweet... it was over. I closed the back cover, and inhaled a shaky breath. (I had held my breath so many times in that book, and not been aware of it. Especially at the proposal.)

While my breath was still shaking, I laid the book beside me on the hammock and I rolled over, and softly fell to the ground landing on my back, not giving a care in the world what the African dust contained. I can tolerate most anything, besides the sandy mud of the Amazon. Oh, the joys of being a missionary kid. But lying there, in that hot, grainy dust, my innocent thirteen-year-old self began to wonder if anything exciting or Charlotte Bronte-worthy would ever happen to me. Could I, Catelyn Wallace, the home-schooled nobody, be a beautiful, desirable young heroine who would experience mystery and intrigue, suspense and secrets, passion and romance, fainting and weeping, abductions and heroic rescues- why, of course! Every heroine needs a hero! - but a true heroine must have that... certain quality. Attitude. Countenance. The one that attracts dashing young men and has a shimmering aura of provocative exhilaration. It was a quality that I did not possess. For when I looked in the mirror, I saw nothing pretty, let alone beautiful. My face, white and sallow, did not reflect the conditions in which I had lived my whole life, and had extraordinary contrast with my dark eyes and hair. But who ever said extraordinary meant comely? For comely I was not. Regardless of my physical appearance, what I did for enjoyment, such as running about getting muddy with my brothers, was not heroine-worthy. My hopes and dreams, even! What heroine wishes to work with special-needs children in orphanages? Well, to be frank, none. Unless you are Mother Theresa, who would not quite qualify as my idealized view of a heroine, but a heroine nonetheless. (Anyway, that can be scratched from the record because I have no such noble ambition anymore. In fact, I have no ambition at all at the moment besides graduating from high school.) Furthermore, my upbringing and the Wallace family income would do nothing to make heroine-ism ever seem possible for me. And all the most prominent heroines lived in the romantic times of the eighteenth and nineteenth century! Why did I have to be stuck in the twenty-first?

That night after _Jane Eyre_ the whole family was called in for dinner, and Dad stated very simply that we were moving back to the States -_after_ doing six months of mission work in Mexico. It was finally time. I hadn't seen my beautiful homeland of America for eight years! That doesn't just mean no Fourth of July for eight years, you know. It means no schools, lockers, or cafeterias. No way to know what's fashionable. No friends that I'd been inseparable from since birth. There was so much of a usual child's life that I missed. But in my simple life, going from village to village, playing with the children who couldn't understand my words, I learned to speak the language of compassion. I learned patience and thankfulness, as well as the source of true joy and contentment. I may not have experience a "normal" childhood, but I lived a simple and edifying life and learned so much that would stay with me forever. Although I was excited to return to my original life, I had gained knowledge I was proud to have, and if I never lived the life of a normal American girl, I would have all I needed. I wasn't expecting a Bronte-worthy life... but I could dream.

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**CHAPTER 1**

Five years of Catelyn's life came and went, with some changes along the way. She now preferred reading even to her beloved old hobbies of soccer in the rain and collecting rocks, and was becoming a very nice, normal young lady, with more of a heroine-in-training quality than when she was a thirteen-year-old. Since then, nothing eventful had happened at all besides a move from Africa to Mexico, then back home to Pennsylvania. In fact, her only accomplishment was graduating from high school. After returning to the States, she remained home schooled and didn't make any friends. No one could blame her, though, for the only neighbors the Wallace family had were senior citizens and young couples whose lives were immersed in politics. A strong friendship between Catelyn and her seventeen-year-old sister Amy blossomed quickly as each grew older. Their disagreeable regard toward each other melted away with maturity, and being only one year apart, they began to relate to each other very well. It was hard for Amy to see her sister graduate, knowing that she would soon be gone. Little did she know that the ones who would take her away were sitting on either side of her: her aunt and uncle, Thomas and Amelia Burney. Their graduation gift was an invitation to stay with them for two months in New York City, where they had an apartment. They had more than an adequate amount of money, and were happy to have such a well-mannered niece whom they could even consider bringing with them to public events. Upon hearing of their plans, Catelyn was quick to accept and was all happiness. She had been to their home just twenty minutes away from her own, but had never been to their city apartment. Her mother complied as well as her father, but was beside herself with grief when she fully realized that her eldest daughter would be away from the house for two months - much longer than she had ever been away from home. Catelyn's eighteen-year-old heart cried out for even the smallest amount of independence. But seeing her mother's emotional state gave her compassion, and every night they would sit together, having nice quality time, talking of nothing of great importance besides boys, the miracles of Godiva chocolate and a good cup of coffee while eating neopolitan ice cream.

The two weeks between graduation and the day of departure quickly passed. It was six in the morning, Catelyn's bags were in the car, and Tom and Amelia were waiting patiently for the Wallace family's goodbyes; it would take time for her to say her goodbyes to all of her family. When she reached her mother, the poor woman choked back her tears and reminded her of the dangers of city men and the New York City's smoggy climate. Catelyn, for the sixth time, patiently assured her distraught mother that she would be very careful indeed. Her father was the last in line, and he gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder and slipped into her hand a twenty dollar bill.

"Be careful of those sneaky pickpockets," he said, attempting a quivery smirk.

Catelyn, although grateful for the twenty dollars, wondered how many blocks that would take her in a taxi. When Amelia saw this quick exchange, she rushed over with flapping hands.

"Really, Ron. That is not necessary. We will cover all of Catelyn's expenses. It is our treat!"

His piercing eyes said all they needed to say to his sister, and Amelia flitted back to her husband's side. Catelyn wondered how it was possible for two siblings to be so entirely different. She followed her aunt, after whispering a soft "thank you" to her father, and slid into the back seat of the Burney's luxurious car.

The drive to New York went by very quickly. Catelyn kept herself occupied by sorting the supposedly edible crunchy things in her aunts' organic snack mix in between chapters of her _Rebecca _by Daphne Du Maurier. They soon reached the apartment building, where Thomas led them to the fifth floor and all the way to the end of the hall, (the whole time singing "New York, New York") where he stopped. He pulled the key out of his back pocket and slowly unlocked the door, as if there was a drum roll going on in the back of his mind. They stepped into the most beautifully furnished apartment Catelyn could imagine. She took her bags to her room, but was being followed by her aunt who was explaining to her that it was imperative that they go shopping immediately for Thomas' business dinner that night. The guest list included the executives of the company, and naturally, he was hoping for a promotion.

Catelyn and Amelia stepped out onto the New York sidewalk in the same clothes that they had worn on the flight. The difference was that while Amelia looked unruffled in a blouse and dress pants without a single silvery-brunette hair out of place, Catelyn, in her rumpled jeans and baggy tee-shirt, looked as if she had actually been on a plane ride.

"Now Dear, never make eye contact with anyone, and keep your purse close." Catelyn was nodding at her aunt's chirping, not hearing the words but knowing what was expected of her. Besides the fact that she was a teenage girl, her lack of attention was due to the street vender she had noticed full of designer purses. She slowed her pace, practically drooling at the sight of a Luis Vuitton. She gradually reached a complete stop. Suddenly a throng of people came rushing around either side of her, and she was getting pommeled by briefcases and trampled by stilettos. Amelia, a good way up the street, turned to look for Catelyn. "Oh, did I forget to mention walk quickly? Dear, really you must come..." She stomped over to her overwhelmed niece and grabbed her wrist, bringing her up to the average speed of a New York City resident.

After about four hours had passed, the two women, one exhilirated and one exhausted, returned to the apartment to find Tom sitting in a chair reading the newspaper, talking to himself about the weather.

"Hello, Dear!" his wife sing-songed perkily.

His head jerked up from the black-and-white print. "Eh?-- ah, well hello, ladies. Was your excursion profitable?" His question was directed to his bewildered niece. Her aunt quickly answered, "Of course, Tom." (Catelyn quickly learned was a common phrase in the Burney household.)

It was evident to Catelyn that big city shopping was a sport which her aunt was far more experienced at than herself. She never knew it to be possible for a woman Amelia's age to march around in 4-inch wobbly toothpick heels for four hours and never grow tired. Amelia selected Catelyn's dress for the dinner. She said she thought it to be quite plain, while Catelyn thought it so fancy that she could hardly imagine herself wearing it, although she did admit it was very flattering. It actually made her look as if she never went through her horrendous gangly stage. Amelia had insisted that Catelyn have her hair cut and styled, and having no energy left to rebel, she grudgingly agreed. Amelia explained to her that "the natural wave in your hair is now working for you, not against you, and Dear, you look quite stylish!" She was obviously pleased. Catelyn managed to escape from the mountains of shopping bags to her room for a nap after reading a chapter further in her Anne Bronte, and dreamed of all of the horrors of the New York boutiques and wondered how a heroine-in-training could get anything done at all without being trampled or splattered with the pungent mixture of cigarette ashes, gasoline and rainwater.

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Catelyn was wakened by the sound of a hissing tea kettle in the kitchen and Amelia's shrill cries. "THOMAS! Where's my Twining's!"

"Check the... cabinet?"

"Of course, Tom. I'm not a dimwit. That's where we always keep tea and that's not where it is! Check the suitcase. I doubt you unpacked the new ones. Since when is the kitchen _my_ responsibility?" Thomas Burney, being a smart man, knew better than to answer a question by telling his wife something she didn't want to hear. "I'll check the suitcase, Mia."

"AH!!" The sound of crashing pots and pans was heard. "What was it doing in there? Found it, Tom! Well, the Earl Grey, anyway. Now where's that Scottish Breakfast? And my Ceylon loose leaf? Oh, my life..."

Catelyn smirked and rubbed her eyes, and rolled over, looking at the clock. It said it was 4:00. She sighed and sat up, attempting to smooth her hair before she stood before her aunt's critical eye. She opened the door just enough to peek out, and saw that two lower cabinet doors were wide open containing nothing, for all of its contents were on the floor. Pots, pans, lids, skillets and spatulas covered the kitchen floor, with a box of Earl Grey, still wrapped in plastic, sat on the counter looking deserving of a spotlight, so perfect and holy it looked!-- besides a dented corner. Not seeing her aunt or uncle in sight, Catelyn slowly opened up the door. "Uncle Tom? Aunt Amelia?"

"YES, DEAR!!" It sounded like they were going through the rest of the suitcases. She figured she might as well make herself a sandwich while she waited for them to reappear. Her aunt came in, and upon seeing sliced turkey, cheese, and bread spread across the counter, promptly swatted her niece's hand with an argyle sock. "No, no, no. Stop right now! We have a dinner tonight, Cate, and very thin dresses to fit into before _and_ afterwards."

"What will we be eating tonight?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Tom said. "But I'm sure it will be something _Trulyyyy Scrrumptious..._" and continued singing while he exited the room, giving his wife a peck on the cheek on the way. She attempted to look irritated, and was failing miserably. She then addressed Catelyn's question. "I'm not sure, Darling. But I'd be expecting something artsy and exotic... they just have the best chefs and caterers in this city." Amelia seemed to think it to be a good thing, but Catelyn did not. She wasn't in the mood for veal smothered in truffle oil and red wine, with a caviar and cumquat salad on the side.


	2. EYES: green, spellbinding ones

**-- Jane Austen's story and inspiration, my twists, my characters --**

Hi everyone! Thanks for reading this. When you get to the bottom, you'll see the submit a review option. Use it. Thank you very much! But seriously, just knowing that people are reading what I write is so encouraging... it'll get chapters out there faster :) so, REVIEW

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**Chapter 2: EYES. Green, spellbinding ones.**

"THIS SORT OF MYSTERIOUSNESS, WHICH IS ALWAYS SO BECOMING IN A HERO, THREW A FRESH GRACE IN CATHERINE'S IMAGINATION AROUND HIS PERSON AND MANNERS, AND INCREASED HER ANXIETY TO KNOW MORE OF HIM."  
_-Chapter Five of Northanger Abbey_

Catelyn sighed and rested her chin in the palm of her hand and winced as the felt her hair shift to the side, pins poking her watched her uncle Tom nervously tie and untie his tie.

They were late for his business dinner.

They were often late; the surprise was that Amelia, the human clock was the reason. She was still beautifying in her glamour den- commonly known as a bathroom. She had started her rituals a bit late because she had felt it necessary to assist her beauty-challenged niece in being presentable to New York's elite. There was more that needed to be done than she had anticipated.

When the time came that Amelia had chosen to reveal herself, she was as stunning as ever in a floor-length red dress- more than acceptable among the city's elite. That was, of course, what she had been striving for. "Catelyn, Darling! Come and try this-- oh dear, no sitting! You will ruin your gown. Up. up!" Catelyn began slowly rising from her position on the couch, and with a pensive look crossing her face, asked her aunt, "But... aren't we going to be sitting while we eath, Aunt Amelia?"

"Oh, look at this clutch, Catelyn! Isn't it stunning?"

She sighed and brushed of the skirt of her dress. "Yes. But it matches my shoes even better than the dress."

"Oh, good, you are catching on. Come closer..." She held the navy silk clutch up to the draped powder blue dress. "There. It matches wonderfully!" She was nearly clapping her hands in glee. "Oh, and I even put a little surprise in there for you. A nice, compact little lipgloss for after dinner touch-ups!"

Catelyn couldn't help but laugh. "Wow, thanks, Amelia."

"Doesn't she look absolutely beautiful, Thomas? She will be the most beautiful creature at the dinner." Amelia sighed blissfully as Catelyn's cheeks grew pink and a bashful smile crept across her lips.

"Oh, yes she does! A very fine young lady. I am proud to announce that I am escorting the two most beautiful women in the city tonight." He turned to his wife and kissed her neck. Amelia giggled her delight, and when she caught sight of the time, she snapped back to her usual self. "Oh my, Thomas! How will we get a taxi at this hour? We are so late. Why are we so late?" Thankfully, she had married a smart man who knew better than to answer his wife's questions.

They arrived at the dinner with some time to spare. Those who were higher up in the company were allowed in early for an exclusive meet-and-mingle event, but there were only five minutes of it left by the time they got there. Thomas was very happy to hear that it would continue after the dinner as well. A scratchy voice spoke up from behind the group. "Ah, Tommy, you old fella! How have you been doing lately? I can see you're really climbing up the ladder here at the Bradford Publishing Company." He smelled strongly of Marlboro Lights and was holding a martini glass.

Thomas smiled what looked more like a grimace. "Barney, it's been so long. Yes, I've been doing fine, and I'm afraid the climbing has started slowing down for me. Arthritic knees, you know." He chuckled nervously.

"Well, that's too bad. But Barney and the Burney need some good ol' reunion time tonight. How's the bar sound?"

"No thanks, it's a bit early for that."

Barney nodded towards his own glass. "I gave up on the idea of drinking hours in the mid-seventies. I just do as I please. Oh, by the way..." He leaned in close to whisper in Tom's ear. Very loudly. "Mr. Earnest Bradford... yes, THE Bradford... is over there by the pillar. Go talk to him. Just to let you know, he really likes Shirley Temples. Who'da thunk! Buy him one with a shot of something in there, and you buy a promotion. Didn't work for me, but hey, maybe vodka's not his favorite. Well, I'll see you around, Tommy!" He spun on his heel, leaving a splatter of his martini on the carpet.

"And that's why he's still single," Tom said gruffly. "He's one of the few people I know here- that's quite embarrassing." It appeared that "the Burney" wasn't too fond of Barney, whoever he was. Tom's face suddenly began to soften as he had a faraway look in his eyes. "Shirley Temple..." He looked at his wife, who didn't look very happy at hearing the name. "Amelia, you remember. She was my childhood crush. I'd watch her on TV reruns all the time. Heidi. Curly Top. Bright Eyes! Ah, Shirley!" He dropped to his knees, passionately clasping his hands together.

"Okay, okay, before you start singing"--

She had stopped her husband from bursting into "Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life", but not her niece from contentedly singing her own tune, simply for the great pleasure of irritating her aunt. "Animal crackers in my soup. Monkeys and rabbits loop the-- what?" She looked up, batting her eyelashes innocently, ignoring the fact that she'd felt Amelia burning holes through her skull with the powerful electricity that generated behind her eye sockets. She decided it would be a good idea to leave her aunt to stew over her husband's fervent attachment to Miss Temple and follow him, wherever he was going. She stood by his side as he addressed a tall, thin man in a dark suit. "Mr. Bradford?" The man turned. "Hello, I'm Thomas Burney, the head of your PR department." Mr. Bradford smiled stiffly, and began speaking with a strong British accent. "Public Relations? Well, Mr. Burney, you have done your job well. It is a pleasure to meet you." Tom's eyes were nearly bugging out of his head, and Catelyn was beginning to worry if hyperventilation would be something to worry about. "A-a-a-and you, sir! Very nice to meet... you."

"Mmm." Mr. Bradford squinted his eyes at Tom, the same stiff smile stretched taut across his freshly shaven face. "Alright then. Who is this lovely young lady you have with you tonight?" He spoke of her in a tone that one would use when referring to a child.

"This is my niece, Catelyn Wallace. She is staying with me and my wife for the summer here in New York."

"I see! Miss Wallace, are you enjoying the city?"

"This is only my first day here, but so far, yes sir, very much."

Catelyn saw a silhouette in the shadows behind the publishing legend. The the figure stepped into the light, and was revealed to be a tall, clean-cut young man, no older than twenty-four, with soft wavy hair. He rested his hand on Mr. Bradford's shoulder, who spoke up. "Ah, there you are! I had been looking for you, young man. Mr. Burney, Miss Wallace, may I present my son, Adam Bradford. Adam, this is Thomas Burney, head of PR, and his niece." Adam's smile was warm and genuine as he extended a hand to Mr. Burney, and spoke with no British accent, unlike his father. "Mr. Burney, thank you so much for coming!"

"Oh, I was happy to come."

"Of course. And, I'm sorry, what was your name?" Adam turned to Catelyn, his lively green eyes piercing her brown ones.  
(Catelyn to this day professes this to be quite the experience. Apparently it has the power to put one in a state of shock.)  
Catelyn appeared to be in a state of shock, and in her confusion forgot her name. Thomas proceeded with the introduction. "This is my niece, Catelyn Wallace."

"Miss Wallace, it is a pleasure to meet you," he said, taking her limp hand in his own and shaking it firmly. She managed to release herself from his peculiar spell. "Oh, and you, Mr. Bradford." The elder Mr. Bradford smiled his approval. The clock promptly struck six o'clock, and the doors were opened to all of the other guests. In other words, all involved with Bradford Publishing Company who weren't the head of a department. Everyone searched the tables for place cards and sat down where they were assigned. A man who called himself Leonard Pickwick approached the front podium and began his speech. "We are so thankful you all could come and celebrate with us Bradford Publishing Company's fiftieth year. I can't imagine working anywhere else. I am proud to introduce to you my boss, mentor, and cherished acquaintance, Mr. Earnest Bradford!"

Catelyn rolled her eyes. _I certainly hope he's more than an acquaintance if he's your mentor, Pickwick._

Everybody clapped politely as he stepped up to the podium. Mr. Earnest Bradford was smiling stiffly yet again. The smile went away as suddenly and robotically as it had appeared, he cleared his throat, shuffled his papers, and proceeded with what Catelyn predicted would be a very long, boring speech. "Everyone at the Bradford Publishing Company plays a significant role in how we operate. Without just one person, it would be like a clock missing a gear, or a man without an eye. It doesn't operate smoothly, or at all, with something missing. I am proud to say that at the Bradford Publishing Company, due to everyone's hard work and expertise, we run very smoothly. I thank you all for your hard work and dedication, and for..." Catelyn began to wish everyone would just abbreviate their precious "_THE _Bradford Publishing Company" to "B.P.C." Or, if they must, "_THE _B.P.C." Much to her dismay, this never happened. And the silly business analogies never seemed to cease either.

Catelyn was shocked that anything could have reduced her appetite that night, but the endless amount of speeches seemed to be just the thing to do so, and she was ever so thankful. The mystery meat, she decided, was either cow tongue or duck. She hoped it was duck, for she couldn't possibly fathom there being a piece of a cow's tongue, taste buds and all, sitting in her stomach at that very moment. She was grateful when the dinner was over and the mingling began again, and promptly strode over to the refreshments table to get something to drink that wasn't champagne, Italian, or sparkling, and something to eat that she could handle sitting in her stomach. The table was covered with chocolate and white chocolate treats, and had a crystal bowl in the center, filled with red punch and floating melon balls. It looked like the closest thing to heaven at the moment, even if she hated melons. She quickly asked the nearest server if the punch contained alcohol or not - she really thought it was disgusting. The thought of rotten wheat or grapes sounded repulsive to her. Once she was assured that it was alcohol-free, she stood in line, impatiently waiting for the man in front of her to ladel out his glass of punch. She already had a plate full of white chocolate dipped pretzels and dark chocolate and sea salt covered caramels. She didn't really see the purpose of the sea salt, but decided that it would probably brush off easily. She shifted her weight from side to side, wondering how in the world pouring one cup of punch could take so long. After a while, she decided that studying the man's light-brown hair follicles was pretty boring. Once the first cup was filled, he began pouring a second. She tapped her foot impatiently, disappointed that her "ballet flats" were so quiet against the wood floor. She wanted him to hear her indignance. Apparently it was radiating strongly enough from her body, for he suddenly turned to face her darkened countenance. Catelyn's heart promptly jumped to her throat as he held out to her a crystal glass of punch. She recognized those emerald eyes. She gasped, and was once again spellbound as he calmly asked her, "Punch, ma'am?"


	3. delicate raillery or witty banter

**-- Jane Austen's story and inspiration, my twists, my characters --**

**A/N:** So here we are. ADAM. All of you NA fans know what's coming. Witty, OMG CAN I MARRY YOU MR TILNEY inducing banter. So how many of you want to get to know Adam a little bit better here? I don't know you're answer, but here's mine: yes. Oh, and this is also a good chapter because its LONG ...er. Hopefully my chapter length gradually gets longer, not shorter. Oh whatever. Get to the good stuff. Green eyes await you, my friends :)

Breena Marie, thanks for your idea on the previous chapter! It helped me out a lot.

VERY finally, you may have noticed that I have added NA quotes to the beginning of each chapter. I just love the book so much and think that there are so many good lines, and I can't possibly reference them all or even attempt to do them justice, so I chose to open the chapters with them to foreshadow events. Now, I really am done. If you read it, review it. PLEASE REVIEW.

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**Chapter 3: Delicate raillery; or, witty banter**

"BUT SHE WAS NOT EXPERIENCED ENOUGH IN THE FINESSE OF LOVE, OR THE DUTIES OF FRIENDSHIP, TO KNOW WHEN DELICATE RAILLERY WAS PROPERLY CALLED FOR, OR WHEN A CONFIDENCE SHOULD BE FORCED."  
_-Chapter Five of Northanger Abbey _

She nearly drowned in his eyes as she watched them sparkle with amusement. She began to feel the corners of her mouth tugging upwards into a blissful smile as she admired how his eyes were mostly green, but around the pupil were a yellow-gold, and the outside of the iris was lined with a dark sage green. Then she realized it had been about five seconds staring like some drooling teenager (which she most certainly was not!), and lost her smile in the midst of her embarrassed blush that was rising from her neck.

"Ah-- um, yes, punch. Please." She awkwardly shifted her plate of sweets into the crook of her left arm to grasp the cup.

"Here, let me take that for you..." Adam set her cup down with his on the refreshments table as he took her plate. He then handed her a cup, and took the other for himself. "See, that wasn't too hard." It looked like his smile would become famously radiant and genuine. What little comfort it brought her she was thankful for. Regardless, her blush, which had reached her cheeks, turned yet another shade darker. She was nearing scarlet at this point. She followed him submissively over to an empty corner table and they set down their things. Catelyn looked down at her plate of delectable deliciousness and was afraid that she would have to ignore it the rest of the night. She had just made herself appear a glutton to the son of one of the wealthiest men in America. Shy of Adam's presence, she cast her eyes to the polished cherry wood floors. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Bradford."

His cup, almost to his lips, was abruptly stopped out of his apparent shock. "Mr. Bradford? No, that would be my father. I'm just Adam. Now as ashamed I am to admit this, I know you're Mr. Burney's niece, but I must tell you, I don't remember... your... name." He grimaced at his dreadful upper-class social mistake. It didn't phase Catelyn - she forgot her own sibling's names most every day.

"My name is Catelyn." Simple, brief.

"Oh! Yes, my first guess was Catherine... close, I suppose, but still incorrect! Please forgive me of that grievous crime, Miss Burney."

She laughed at his affected voice. "Oh, don't worry about it, it's fine. But with a reaction like that, I'm very worried about telling you-- My name is Catelyn _Wallace_, not Burney."

"Wallace? Catelyn Wallace, I apologize." She sheepishly smiled her forgiveness.

"So Miss Wallace, what is it that brought you to the refreshments table with such an appetite?"

And her blush had finally begun to fade. She had hoped he wouldn't notice her sugar shrine! The faint red stain on her cheeks glowed a bit brighter as she slowly took a sip of her punch, pondering how to respond.

"Adam,", she began, "you stopped my formality of calling you Mr. Bradford, and now it's my turn. There's no need for you to call me Miss Wallace. I'm just Catelyn."

She smiled, and he returned the smile. "Alright then, Catelyn. But no avoiding my question."

"I wasn't! I was getting there. Anyway, I'm afraid to say that whatever that was for dinner wasn't exactly my cup of tea, but you really don't need to pass that on."

"So let me get this straight... you're saying you prefer chocolate over a delicious roasted duck?" He looked baffled.

Her stomach felt much less queasy having this realization. Duck, not cow tongue, was what she had eaten three bites of a few hours ago.

She attempted to hold back a smile. "Yes, that is precisely what I am saying."

His facial features returned back to normal. He raised an eyebrow as he looked around the room suspiciously, and leaned in towards her. "I have a feeling you're not the only one here who feels that way. I happen to be one of those people. My dad keeps trying to refine my tastebuds, but it's never worked."

"Hm yes..." She cast her eyes to her red plastic plate. "And what day is complete without chocolate consumption?"

"Or a cup of coffee?"

"Ew. I think you mean Diet Coke."

"How can you say that? I most certainly do not! Now all those energy drinks, yum..."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Actually, yes, I am." Catelyn began to laugh, but Adam quickly cut it short. "I'm not saying that I like Diet Coke, though. That's the female soft drink. Not for me, thank you."

"If that's how you feel about my precious Diet Coke, and your pick was coffee, I suppose you drink it like a man? Black?"

"Precisely. The only way to do it."

"If you do it at all. I don't. I think coffee's disgusting."

He frowned disapprovingly. "Looks like I have some work to do with you, young lady. You will never be fully caffeinated, or truly grown up for that matter, until you've had a good, strong cup of coffee." They chuckled together, and stood there maybe a minute or two sipping their punch contently, watching people mingle from their table in the back corner. Adam was the first to speak up again.

"So Catelyn, have you had your chocolate for the day?" She turned, and confused, shook her head no. "Well, we must change that." He reached for her plate of treats and picked up a sea-salted chocolate caramel.

"What day is complete without even the smallest consumption of decadent, rich, divine..." Catelyn heard the dark chocolate crack, and watched hungrily as the caramel stretched out, just like his words.

"...chocolate?" His voice as he whispered the sacred word was just as rich and smooth as what he spoke of.

Catelyn was unable to respond.

"Well, Missy, from your silence and lusty, hungry gaze upon this delectable treat, I think your answer would be 'No day, good sir, is complete without it. Please, I beg of you, complete this day for me. GIVE ME CHOCOLATE!!'" She jumped as his voice transitioned from tranquil and effeminate to demanding and angry. She laughed at him and answered sarcastically, "Yes, that is exactly what I would say. The words, the vocal tone... every single inflection. For so little time together, you know me very well."

"Yes, I know." He placed a red napkin containing half of a salt-covered, dark-chocolate dipped, gooey caramel. When he passed it to her, his fingers brushed hers, his eyes met hers, and her heart suddenly skipped a beat. She lifted her eyes to his, and saw something she hadn't before. Considering the skip of her heart and the brush of their hands, you, like our heroine, probably expected something akin or passion or desire boiling behind the emerald sheen. But no; it was the warmth of eager, tender friendship, and Catelyn knew not what to make of it.

He took a bite of his own half. "So, so good. Well? Are you going to eat it or not? If you won't, I suppose I'll take it for you..." His hand kept slowly inching toward her napkin. "...If you'd _really_ like me to..." She pulled her napkin to her chest. "NO! Uh, I mean--" She sighed, then laughed softly. "Um, I'm fine, I think I'll keep it, thanks."

Adam laughed victoriously. "Ha! Yes, see? I did it right. That's exactly how I impersonated you. You see, I know women with chocolate. You're just like my sister." He chuckled.

"Sister?"

"Yeah. She's around your age. She's nineteen, but her birthday's in August, so almost twenty."

"Hmm."

"But no, really, you need to eat that chocolate before it melts all over that beautiful dress."

"Oh?-- oh, well um, thank you, but I..." She looked at it, unsure of whether or not it was sacrilege to eat chocolate with salt. "...I had a question about the salt."

"The salt?"

Yes, the salt."

He waited for her question, but not long enough for her to think of one. "You may proceed with your question, which we established, was about the salt. Unless you want me to call for the caterer."

"No, no... I was just wondering, what is the purpose of it at all? I mean, chocolate is perfection. Why add sea salt? Or even caramel, for that matter?"

"Let's see. This looks like dark chocolate, do you agree?" He waited for Catelyn's affirmative head bob before he continued. "And the caramel is very sweet and sugary. Dark chocolate is bitter, and caramel is sweet. So the bitter and the sweet compliment each other, but there's a lot of sugar involved in this, um, medley of... sweetness. A pinch of salt must be thrown in to balance out the richness, almost to corrupt the sugary-ness of the whole thing. I don't think it would be so good without the salt."

Catelyn was going through his statements in her head, trying to sort them out. She was feeling very confused.

"Go ahead, Catelyn. Tell me what you think of it."

She bit through the dark chocolate, and felt the salt against the roof of her mouth. She then bit through the caramel, and in short, it tasted divine. Adam decided to narrate.

"Do you see the fireworks? Do you hear the symphony as the flavors flow together in perfect harmony? Ah. Perfection."

Catelyn swallowed, frowning, savoring the tastes that still remained in her mouth. "Actually, I think it would have been better without the salt."

"You have got to be kidding me."

She smiled her satisfaction, and reached out to twirl the flowers in the middle of the table. "Actually, I am."

He looked as if he was trying to pull something witty from the deep recesses of his mind, but it was apparent that he was quite unable to do so. His mouth was moving but uttered no sound until he exclaimed, "Well, all I can say is, thank God that chocolate commentary of mine wasn't all in vain. I went from sweetness, bitterness and corruption to fireworks, symphonies and harmonies."

Catelyn's bubbling laughter filled the air. When she saw her uncle approaching, her laughter quickly turned to a clearing of throat. Adam, too, straightened up. Their voices rang in chorus: "Hello, Uncle Thomas." "Hello, Mr. Burney."

"Hello, Adam. And for goodness sake, Catelyn, what is caught in your throat?"

She reached for her punch, and just before it reached her lips, she muttered, "Sea salt, dear uncle. Sir."

Only Adam heard it. Now it was his turn to enter into a coughing fit.

Thomas frowned. "Eh? What was that? Oh, never mind. Amelia sent me over here to 'fetch' you. The party ends at eleven, and it's ten. To my wife, that means now is the time to leave. I really don't understand why she, being a woman, seems so practical when it comes to socialization. Catelyn, do you want me to get a to-go box for those chocolates? Do caterers even offer to-go boxes, I wonder? Hm. Well, never too late to find out." He snatched the plate up before she could protest, and the plate flipped up in his face. It fell to the ground, revealing smears of chocolate and caramel across his tie.

"My silk!! Amelia's going to kill me..."

Adam and Catelyn took their napkins and started wiping off the streaks, ignoring Tom's groans of agony.

Adam abruptly stopped. "Wait - you said this is a _silk _ tie?"

Thomas gasped. "You don't know how many young men I know who need a woman to remind them how to tie their ties or they don't even untie them at night! And you, young man, seem to know the dangers of silk." Thomas sighed mournfully. "Yes. Silk. It is silk. So be careful when cleaning it, I don't know if the napkins are such a good idea..."

"True..." Adam leaned in closer to the tie. "Sir, this design is exquisite! The way that there's a thin coffee line in between the two shades of navy... or is it three? Is this a Ferragamo?"

As he tried to recall the brand, Thomas bobbed his head from side to side, his hands flapping at his sides. He looked very much like a goose. "No, actually, it's a Trump. Like Donald. That kind, Donald Trump. Amelia bought it for me as a joke when I got a promotion, but I wear it anyways. I mean hey, it works. It's a tie." He paused, with an awkward smile in an awkward silence. Adam and Catelyn found themselves bobbing their heads with Thomas' now. He suddenly jumped, and so did they. "Wait, there is?" Thomas said with great shock. He grabbed his tie, studying it closely. "There is no coffee stripe, or I'm blind. I don't see a thing." was the muffled response to his own question. Adam cleared his throat. "That's because there's chocolate there, sir."

"Ah! Yes. Of course... Oh, there's the stripe. What a lovely shade of brown. Well, anyways, Catelyn my dear, I am afraid we must adjourn. But you, Adam, when you go home tonight, I expect that you will untie your lovely silk tie, hang it, and not even have to worry about silly spots like I do. And that is the mark of a fine young man. It was nice to meet you."

Adam took Thomas' extended hand, and shook firmly. "And you, sir." He then turned to Catelyn.

"And it was very nice meeting you, Miss Wallace." He smiled tightly, formally, and Catelyn knew, jokingly.

She now reached to grasp his hand without trembling at all. "Oh, the pleasure was all mine, _Mr. Bradford_." She smiled wickedly. He narrowed his eyes menacingly as he leaned forward in a slight bow, then softly released her hand. Either this kind of interaction was completely normal to Thomas Burney, or he was completely oblivious. I suppose we must assume the latter.

"Well then, Catelyn?" Tom turned, and she went to his side. She looked over her shoulder, and saw Mr. Adam Bradford walking away, in the direction of his father. She sighed, and looked forward again.

In the taxi on the way back to the apartment, Amelia was buzzing about all of the wonderful ladies she saw there. Thomas just kept nodding and, being a good man, resisted the urge to ignore every word she said. He then mentioned Catelyn speaking to "Adam B." all the time past dinner. She looked to Catelyn. "You _did_?" She tentatively nodded her reply, and knowing of her aunt's suspicions searched desperately for an excuse for her behavior "Um... he reminded me of Austin."

"Which one is that? I can never keep all these Wallace nieces and nephews straight."

"The bagpiping chemist."

"Oh, of course! How could I forget Austin. He's twenty-one now, isn't he?"

Thomas piped up. "I don't know how you could forget him, Amelia; but remember that Austin _is_ one of Catelyn's favorite brothers!" He smiled coyly.

Catelyn rolled her eyes, irritated by their behavior. Why is what little interaction she had with a funny, nice, sweet, tender, friendly (not to mention filthy rich) gentleman (oh- and with really nice eyes) such a big deal? "Tom, you know I don't have favorites." He ignored her as he became more and more excited. "And he knew about ties, and taking care of them, and silks, and has such a good eye for patterns! Even better than my own."

Catelyn crossed her arms and became very interested in studying the random signs New York boasted: "Everything Hemp", "help me homeless need ", "Chinese take-out", "T-shirts: 'I survived a New York taxi drive'", "eyebrow threading for 5 dollars"...

Amelia shook her head. "Darling, you've had those glasses since '92, and should've gotten new lenses within three years of that. You're way past due. Either way, congratulations to Mr. Bradford on his accomplishment of knowing tie etiquette." She rolled her eyes, and propped her elbow up on the window, watching the blur of the vibrant New York sky line as they drove on.

The taxi was silent the rest of the way home besides the evening news playing softly from the radio. Catelyn didn't mind the silence; she was exhausted, but even so, her thoughts kept going. When she arrived back at the apartment she kissed her aunt and uncle goodnight and tiptoed back to her room. She stealthily closed the bedroom door, grabbed her cell phone and prayed that there would be a signal in the bathroom to call Amy. She pushed the door shut gently with her foot, sat on the edge of the bathtub in her dress, and began kicking off the "ballet flats" and rolling down the pantyhose. She dialed Amy's number, eager to talk about everything. Mid hose strip, she was made woefully aware of the fact that there wasn't a signal. With the other hose leg dragging behind her, she reluctantly arose from her porcelain seat and walked into the bedroom. After she changed into her pajamas, turned off the lamp and curled up in bed, she couldn't help but consider what her aunt and uncle were wishing for her. She squeezed her eyes shut and saw emerald green. Her sparkling eyes burst open and her smile radiated in the darkness. Catelyn remembered the man called Mr. Adam Bradford whom she had met at the dinner; the only man in the room whose height was perfectly compatible with her 5-foot-5 frame. She thought of his chocolate monologue, the brush of his fingers when passing her the plate, his tender caress when he shook her hand. She then proceeded to curl up in a ball and giggle into her pillow like an idiot. While some would consider Catelyn's childish behavior a common medicine for the beginnings of lovesickness, I would beg to differ that it was, rather, a vociferous symptom.


	4. The Osberts

**-- Jane Austen's story and inspiration, my twists, my characters --**

**A/N:** Okay, so this isn't a very exciting chapter, mainly because it's just meeting new characters and not revisiting old ones... such as ones with the name of ADAM. Oh, but don't worry. You'll have PLENTY of him in the next one. _Believe me. _REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!! :)

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**Chapter 4: The Osberts **

"THIS BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY IS INTENDED TO SUPERSEDE THE NECESSITY OF A LONG AND MINUTE DETAIL FROM MRS. THORPE HERSELF, OF HER PAST ADVENTURES AND SUFFERINGS, WHICH MIGHT OTHERWISE BE EXPECTED TO OCCUPY THE THREE OR FOUR FOLLOWING CHAPTERS; IN WHICH THE WORTHLESSNESS OF LORDS AND ATTORNIES MIGHT BE SET FORTH, AND CONVERSATIONS, WHICH HAD PASSED TWENTY YEARS BEFORE, BE MINUTELY REPEATED."  
_-Northanger Abbey, Chapter 4 _

Catelyn was awakened by the click-click of acrylic nails rapping on her door.

"Catelyn! Time to wake up! We have somewhere to be."

The empty silence was her only response.

"Oh, don't tell me you're still in bed. It's eight-o-clock in the morning, dear!"

Upon hearing this, Catelyn let out a pained, animalistic moan to be sure that her agony and despair at having to arise at such an hour was fully understood.

Her aunt's muffled voice was heard from the other side of the door. "What's that dearie? I can't hear you. Can I come in? ...I said, _can I come in?_ Oh, forget it. We're both girls. I'm coming in."

Catelyn burrowed beneath the sheets, wishing she could be invisible and continue sleeping. Six hours of sleep was never quite enough. She felt the corner of the mattress by her right foot drop. "You have to get up now! I don't know a soul in New York which is quite pathetic considering I live here part time, so whenI got a call from an old high school friend last weekend who said she wanted to meet me for coffee this morning at eleven, I naturally said yes. Oh, and you're coming with me."

"But... why?"

"Well first of all, she has a daughter about your age; second, I don't feel comfortable leaving you here alone, and I've only seen her once since she was married which was before Tom and I were even engaged, so of course I'm going which means you'd have to if I didn't want you staying here alone - which I dont. Besides, it would just be polite for you to come. So get up, shower, and eat some breakfast."

Shower. Catelyn lifted her hand to her hair, feeling the tangled mass of pins and curls, wondering how she could tame it in just three hours.

She did manage to do so, but just barely. With her wet hair quickly thrown into a loose braid, she followed her fast-paced aunt down the New York sidewalks as she tore at a piece of buttered whole-grain toast with her teeth. When they reached the Starbucks, Catelyn smoothed back her hair and whipped out some chapstick, hoping her appearance would be enough to satisfy her meticulous aunt.

She looked up from her purse as the door opened and a short, stocky woman cried out the name "Amelia Reed" and started walking towards Catelyn's aunt with open arms.

Amelia responded calmly. "Oh Ellen, so good to see you! And it's actually Amelia Burney now."

"And I'm Ellen Osbert. Oh, but you already knew that. He he! Living with my four kids in Schenectady right now. But Amelia, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd have a daughter! Yet here she is. My, my, it has been a while, hasn't it? Hello, hon, I'm Ellen. So nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Osbert. But actually, I'm Amelia's niece, Catelyn."

"Oh, she's very well-mannered, Mia! Reminds me so much of my own daughters. They happen to be very well-mannered too, you see. So anyway, is she Ron's?"

"Yes she is Ron's daughter, and is staying here with us for a couple months. She just graduated this summer. So Ellen, where is your daughter?"

"She's actually here with my two other girls, as well. Hannah, my nineteen-year-old, is the one you are referring to, I believe. She's gloriously beautiful. The twins are sixteen, and they're horribly jealous of her. I'm sure Hannah and Catelyn will hit it off right away. All three will be here soon, I think they were stopping at the movie store. They have very artful taste in movies, you know. Actually my son Nelson who's attending NYU is majoring in television and film, and is going to continue as a graduate student. He's just one of those kids who wants to do it all, go all the way, you know? Such a wonderful, aspiring young fella. And-"

Catelyn needed a change of direction, so she took this opportunity to interrupt her chatty new acquaintance. "You say he attends NYU? So does my brother, Drew."

Mrs. Osbert's mouth gaped open. Drew? As in An_drew_ Wallace?"

"Yes ma'am, that would be my brother."

She gasped. "No."

"Um, yes."

"Nooo!"

Catelyn refused to respond this time.

"He spent last weekend with us on the Cape! He's a good friend of Nelson's, I'm pretty sure they live on the same floor of their dorm. How charming! Actually, my other son Billy at his institutional military college (which my husband somehow thought would do the poor, miserable boy some good) had a grand time with his roommate and some other friends on his floor..."

And it went on... and on. And on some more. Catelyn kept herself entertained by looking out the windows of the cafe. So many different kinds of people roamed the NYC sidewalks, yet in three minutes of people watching, she had counted thirteen Bluetooth headsets. She was distracted from her counting (a boredom buster she had picked up from her uncle) when she saw the back of a man in an oxford shirt who had a head of wavy, light brown hair. Just like Adam. Her eyes widened as she saw him start to turn around. She was terrified. She had sopping wet hair and a morning face, for goodness sake! His head turned almost enough to reveal his profile, and... it was about fifteen years older than the profile she was expecting. She was greatly relieved to see that. As much as she wanted to see Adam, she didn't want him to see her. She rummaged desperately through her purse looking for the lipgloss her aunt had lent her for the previous night when her attention was drawn toward the jingling door of the coffee shop. It swung open violently, and she felt the warm, smoggy stench of the outside air rush into the shop and up her unhappy nostrils. Ah, New York, New York. Standing silhouetted in the doorway with the perfect amount of natural backlighting were three girls, a bright redhead, a platinum blonde, and a jet black-haired beauty. Their pose was somewhat reminiscent of Charlie's Angels, but with shopping bags. Two teetered on their heels simultaneously, while the one in the center stood confident. This made Catelyn wonder if those were the twins, but all three looked so entirely different that Catelyn couldn't see how it was possible for two of them to be twins at all, let alone be related. However, in the way that they addressed Ellen from their pose in the doorway, they were indeed the Osbert sisters.

The redhead trotted, the platinum blonde strutted, and the ebony-maned girl stumbled to her mother's side and all looked expectantly towards the two strangers, still without one even uttering a word. Amelia stepped forward.

"You must be Ellen's daughters. How nice to meet you! I'm Amelia, Ellen's friend from high school. And this is my neice, Catelyn. Now, which one of you is Hannah?"

The platinum blonde stepped up, smiling broadly. "Amelia, it's nice to meet you. Now Catelyn, you come with us. I want to show you what we bought!" She squealed with delight. The bangles on her wrist jingled as she grabbed Catelyn's arm.

The four girls raced over to a corner booth where the Osbert sisters placed three shopping bags atop the table. One girl immediately grabbed a bag and started chirping enthusiastically about Saks 5th Avenue at such a high rate of speed that Hannah had to reach over and swat her shoulder. "Alexa. Control yourself." Alexa's straight ebony hair which had swished around her tiny shoulders stopped moving as abruptly as it had started. Hannah composed herself, her full, pink mouth twitching with irritation as she adjusted her aviator sunglasses which crowned her long, voluminous blonde mane. A quick sigh escaped her lips, then she quickly returned to the happy, peppy girl who had dragged her to this table. While the redhead dumped all the bags on the table and refolded and organized the purchases and Alexa gnawed at her hangnails (Catelyn really couldn't believe that they were twins), Hannah asked Catelyn basic questions about her life and interests, and they quickly formed a bond of friendship through their similar interests in literature and chick flicks. Catelyn discovered that Hannah also loved Austen and Eyre, but was not familiar with more obscure authors such as Daphne DuMaurier, Ann Radcliffe or the romantic poems of Rosetti or Barrett-Browning. Hannah felt that it was entirely necessary for Catelyn to have a full understanding of staple chick flicks such as The Notebook, which was her personal favorite, and Dirty Dancing which was evidently tied with her guilty pleasure, Casablanca. She exclaimed that Catelyn must not leave New York without watching with her at least The Notebook, if not all of the three mentioned. In return, Hannah was made to swear she would watch a movie version of a book on Catelyn's favorites list before she left the city, and read at least one that she hadn't already.

Very soon, it was time for the new friends to separate. As much as Amelia had professed to be excited to be reunited with her old friend, she didn't even attempt to hide her disgust at her rapid speech and apparently dissatisfactory wardrobe. "So that's where that baggy tourist shirt came from. The CAPE." Catelyn casually looked down at her I HEART NY shirt and shrugged off her aunts indirect criticism. "And the redhead - I think her name was Andrea - her shoes, did you see them? Scuffed up enough they looked second hand. And Alexa, poor thing, its obvious that she doesn't know that sixteen year old girls can't pull off fire-engine red patent leather stilettos, only twenty-three-year-old strippers and Scarlett Johansson can, but those might as well be one in the same. I mean, she couldn't even walk in them!"

Catelyn was shocked by her aunts casual reference to strippers, and had no idea who this scarlet person was, and assumed she was some famous Vegas showgirl.

"Anyways, I'm just glad that it's Hannah that you're becoming friends with. She looked like a very respectable, nice girl to keep you company."

Regardless of these complaints, Amelia was happy to know someone in New York, and was grateful for the company Mrs. Osbert offered over the following days. Catelyn, after a week of galavanting around the city with her new friend Hannah, was pleased to invite her to spend the night. While eating microwaved soft pretzels and Phish Food ice cream from Ben and Jerry's, the two watched the 1940's version of _Rebecca_, which Hannah said she enjoyed very much. She absolutely loathed Mrs. Danvers, and loved the twists of the story line. Next came _The Notebook_. The friends cried on each others' shoulders quite a few times throughout, which was to be expected. But during the more intimate scenes, the first more than the second, Catelyn felt extremely awkward and became keenly interested in the little chocolate fish she found in her ice cream. Meanwhile, Hannah would be sighing like a little girl watching Cinderella (who happened to be stripping down to her birthday suit at that moment) wishing she could marry Prince Charming (who was also very intent on revealing his own birthday suit), and wouldn't stop saying, "Oh, Noah looks so much like Matt!" Catelyn would just roll her eyes, and wondered if anything besides their eyebrows resembled each other in the slightest. But besides these two, ehem, intimate scenes, however, she felt that it was a touching and tender, yet passionate and riveting romance about choices. Hannah laughed at her description, and proceeded to ask her if she knew any boys.

She frowned. "Why, of course. I mean, I live with quite a few, so why wouldn't I?"

"No, silly, I mean ones you're not related to?"

Of course the first one that came to mind was named Adam.

"He's the only person who I know in New York, who's not family and who's not an Osbert."

"Really? So where'd you meet him?"

"At some stupid dinner party my uncle made me come to. Business."

Hannah squinted and smiled slyly. "Wait, your uncle works for the BPC, right?"

Catelyn was confused as to what this had to do with anything, and yawned, "Yeah, why?"

"You mean you met Adam_ Bradford__?_"

She sure thought Hannah was being quite silly. "Yes. And...?"

"Catelyn! He's only the most eligible bachelor - well, besides his older brother - in New York besides Ed Westwick! And all three have smokin' hot British accents!!"

Westwick? She had no idea who that was. "Um, actually, Hannah, he speaks just like you or me."

Her face fell. "But... isn't he British?"

"I suppose so. I mean, his dad is, and I'm pretty sure he was raised there."

She brightened. "See, when he takes you on your first date, you'll fly on a 747 to Heathrow, take the double decker bus to your future mum-and-law's house and have tea and crumpets! Smashing!! Just make sure to show his brother a picture of me when you get the chance. Oh, double dates will be so fun! But hey, if Benjamin Bradford doesn't want me, my Eddie Westwick will do just fine."

Catelyn laughed at her friends' flying blonde hair and flashing blue eyes. "Hannah! Goodness, stop. I doubt that there will be a first date at all"- she winced -"sadly. And I haven't even heard anything about his mother or brother."

"Ooh, must have been a nasty, high-profile divorce I missed when I gave up tabloids for Lent a couple years ago. That has been the hardest trial of my life so far. Never gonna do that one again. Chocolate would be better for me, I suppose. But antioxdants!- oh, anyways- really, that's just horrible! Those divorces must have put a lot of unwanted attention on those poor boys. They sure did need some nice, pretty girls to lean on. Why not start now?" She shrugged peppily. Her method of speaking on differing topics with Catelyn and herself made the conversation odd schizophrenic, yet lively and possibly entertaining.

Catelyn sighed. "Oh, I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me."

"And how do _you_ feel about _him_?"

She was entirely unable to hold back her beaming smile. She squirmed with joy on the bed. "Welllll... he's really nice, and really funny, and really sweet, and has these gorgeous eyes, and"-

-"is filthy rich."

"That wasn't what I was going to say, but it is probably true. However, that has nothing to do with why I find him attractive."

Hannah's face displayed her obvious disbelief. "Nothing at all, huh?"

Catelyn turned toward her, confused at why she didn't believe her. "No, nothing at all. Why should it?"

She leaned back, and continued with a sarcastic tone as she rolled her eyes. "Well, I. Have. No. I. Dea."

"Ohh... kayyy... well anyways, he's pretty much the most amazing guy ever, and I really want to see him again!"

"Well, Cate, you certainly have my approval, as long as you promise to tell Ben about me, and consider all of the men I might have in mind for you later on." She was smiling slyly again... not a good sign.

Catelyn winced. "Do you have any in mind for me now?"

Hannah shook her head "no".

"Good, because I'm really tired right now and am ready for some sleep." She curled up next to her friend who was also getting comfortable in the king-sized guest bed in the Burney's apartment. "Oh- wait, Hannah?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know any boys?"

"Um, yes. I do know boys."

"No, silly, I mean _like_ any boys."

"Well... yes. I do. And the boy really likes me, too. He's basically perfect!"

"Aww. That's great... I can't wait to have something like that myself."

"Yeah. Now we can go to sleep and have sweet dreams about our men, right?"

"Hmm... Yea."


	5. Rebecca's Notebook: the dream

**-- Jane Austen's story and inspiration, my twists, my characters --**

**A/N: **So if you're wondering why I'm cranking out the chapters right now, it's because I leave for Europe on June 2nd and won't be back for two weeks. YAY!! But sad because I don't know if I'll be able to write. I'm going to England and Rome, and GUESS WHAT. I'm going to London, Bath, Chelsea and all the other places Janeites would appreciate. I'll put a picture of Bath up on my profile when I get back as an ode to Northanger Abbey. Or if I see an abbey... wow. So I'm excited.

Anyways. This chapter's much shorter, and you'll see why. Don't worry, Adam's in this and is still wonderful. REVIEW PLEASE ) You know I love that. Seriously, jakeline and Breena Marie, the two of you following my story is so encouraging! Here's to my biggest fans! Hehe, I think you get the point. Thanks so much for your constant reviews. Now Breena, PLEASE UPDATE!! Goodness gracious, girl.

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**Chapter 5: Rebecca's Notebook**

NO YOUNG LADY CAN BE JUSTIFIED IN FALLING IN LOVE BEFORE THE GENTLEMAN'S LOVE IS DECLARED, IT MUST BE VERY IMPROPER THAT A YOUNG LADY SHOULD DREAM OF A GENTLEMAN BEFORE THE GENTLEMAN IS FIRST KNOWN TO HAVE DREAMT OF HER.  
_-Northanger Abbey, Chapter 3 _

"Last night I dreamt I came to Manderley again. And look, here I am." I speak optimistically and search his face, looking for a glint of green to spark from beneath his troubled brow, but his eyes are shadowed from the blazing sun as he rows the canoe through the tranquil waters. All I'm looking for is at least an acknowledgment of my words, even just of my presence. I feel like an attention-hungry little girl as I eagerly continue.

"I've always loved the ocean. The smell of the salty sea is so enthralling."

He grunts.

Finally, a response! But it wasn't very warm. Do I expect too much? Oh no, wait... what if he's noticing the strain in my voice? But I can't help it! I so want to pretend like everything is alright - to pretend that my husband loves me.

A sudden gust of wind stirs his soft chestnut hair and the surface of the water, and he looks towards the sky. The sun begins to disappear. "We'd better get going, the rain's coming in." He rows faster. My blue scarf is nearly blown away by another gust of the salty August air, and I grab it just in time. The canoe approaches a calm group of swans, sitting peacefully in the water. Disturbed and unhappy, they suddenly fly away and manage to look graceful. I look at his face again- it is hard and emotionless as stone... as usual. I want to speak what is on my mind, but hesitate, and nervously reach for the pearls around my neck.

"Adam."

He doesn't respond when I tentatively speak his name. We're approaching shore as raindrops begin to fall lightly on the surface of the ocean. I try saying his his name again, this time speaking above the whistling wind and light pattering of raindrops in the water.

"Adam."

"Yes."

"I know what you're thinking. I can't blame you, though. This whole thing... I don't see how we can just avoid it. That's the problem."

"Catelyn-"

I continue, not willing to hear what he has to say. "It's like a dream-- oh, what am I saying. This is a nightmare! I never thought that I would be in a marriage like this. I was raised on fairy tales, for goodness sake! I know you had your fairy tale. You and Rebecca"-

"Don't say her name."

"But"-

"You heard me, Cate. I don't want to hear it. Besides," He raises his head to look at me, "you can't possibly know what I'm thinking right now."

When his eyes meet mine, I'm disturbed and confused by the storm that appears to be brewing inside of him. I'm deep in thought, pondering this odd sight, and jump at the thunder, regardless of how quiet or gentle the roll may have been. I look up as a dark cloud illuminates behind Adam's head.

I sigh and close my eyes as I let my forehead fall into my palm. My voice shakes as I speak quietly. "Look, all I'm saying is, you were happy. You loved her, and she loved you. When I accepted your proposal, I thought you loved me. I mean, didn't I have the right to assume that, besides all of your attentions? Even at the altar, you swore before God you would love me. But look! Here we are, and we're trying to pretend-- no, _I'm_ trying to pretend that we're happy." His hand catches the post on the dock and the boat ceases its motion. I look up at him as he jumps onto the dock, and I feel my tears mingling with the raindrops falling on my cheeks. "That's all I want, Adam. I want you to... to love me." I choke out the words, acutely aware of how melodramatic I sound. "If you can't do that"-

I am interrupted when he offers me his hand to help me out of the boat. I step out, then stand back and watch him pull the wooden canoe onto the dock. Oh, he's so handsome and strong! He would make a good husband if he weren't always brooding in his anger and sadness. The rain is now falling in sheets. I feel my wet hair whipping around my face, free of its french twist. I could care less about vanity right now. All I long for is a heart and relationship that are whole, not broken.

My heart stops- He has turned to face me, his face only inches from mine. I am intimidated by his stance, as I usually am - now, he towers about eight inches taller than me, has his hands on his hips, and his head tipped down; his eyes are cast to the wooden dock. I can feel the water dripping from his hair onto my forehead. I shrink back, but he catches my wrist. I didn't want this to result in violence! Why is this happening? Oh, dear Lord...

"Go on."

Go on? That's all he has to say? Well in that case, I certainly have no trouble picking up where I left off.

"Adam," I speak stubbornly, yet weakly, and look up into his face, attempting eye contact. "if you can't even look me in the eye and tell me that you love me, even though it would be a lie and I would know it, how can we live under the same roof and even attempt to pretend like we're happily married? When you proposed to me after knowing me only those couple weeks, I hoped you wanted to marry me because you loved me, but obviously that's not what was going on. And now it's too late."

He grabs my other wrist. His face hasn't moved further away from mine, his burning glare hasn't wavered a hair, even during my accusations. He begins speaking in a heated, fervent voice. "Look, Catelyn. Do you really want to know what I was thinking about on that canoe ride? Or-- wait, did you ever stop and wonder why I took you out there in the first place? I needed to think, I... I just wanted to be with you, and I hoped that I would somehow be able to tell you what I was thinking." His breath is ragged, and swallows hard. He looks like he's about to drown in the rain, and I can't understand why. He looks around as if for something to rely on before he continues with what he wanted to say. Finally, he stills and his eyes meet mine.

"Catelyn, all I was thinking about was how beautiful you looked in the sunlight, and how horribly sad it was that you wanted me to love you so badly that you pretended like we were fine and nothing was ever wrong, like we were happy together, even when the only audience was each other."

I stand there, unable to move in my shock. Can I believe him? Oh, I want to more than anything. He releases my wrists and pulls me into a tight embrace. My eyes are closed. I feel like I always do when we're in public - as if we're on a stage, and I'm just a wooden prop in his arms. I long to be treated like I mean something to him.

He leans back and looks down on me; I feel his warm hand touch the side of my neck, his thumb gently brushing my jaw line. I tip my face to Adams' and open my eyes slowly, hoping to see that I might mean something, and his eyes burn straight through mine. I'm shocked again; what I see is overwhelming- his eyes overflow with apology, sorrow, and honesty, and ... love. I immediately know what he wants to say, and will believe his words when he speaks them. I reach a trembling hand to brush his dripping wet hair from his temple. He shuts his eyes and swallows at my touch, almost as if it pains him. He looks so vulnerable. He reaches his free hand to mine on his cheek, pressing it against his prickly stubble. "Oh, Catelyn. You know what I have suffered. Please believe what I say." His eyes open, and they are filled with hunger as the fall to my lips. My heart stops again. He bends his head to mine.

"Catelyn." Adam speaks my name hesitantly. The warmth of his closeness contrasts my coolness; a shiver runs up the course of my spine.

He isn't moving.

I can just barely feel his warm breath pulsing on my salty, icy cheek. I reach my free hand around the back of his head and weave my fingers through his hair, a gentle beckon.

_Come closer, Adam._

"Yes?" I can barely hear the words escape my own lips.

Everything feels strange, like slow motion. I can feel the rain, but not hear it. My eyes are closed, yet I see lights flashing about me. I feel the feather light touch of his lips against my cheek...

"Catelyn." He drops his hand from mine and cradles in it my head. My hand remains on his sweet, rough cheek. He continues.

"I love you so much." His lips brush the corner of my mouth as he whispers tenderly, "And I always will."


	6. Caffeine highs and sugar lows

**-- Jane Austen's story and inspiration, my twists, my characters --**

A/N: Wow. It has certainly been a while! I have been outrageously busy since I last posted. Well, here I am at it again, hoping and praying you remember who these characters are! Anyway, you're most likely wondering how you can thank me for being wonderful enough to post another chapter. :P I thought so! There is one thing you can do... REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!! If you do, you'll go on my happy list. It's a good place to be :) Love you all!

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**Chapter 6: Caffeine highs and sugar lows**

Catelyn's rude awakening was a peppy, sighing musical ring tone coming from Hannah's cell phone. She rolled over and squinted at the clock.

_4:30 AM. Ugh. I hate Chris Brown ringtones._

She heard Hannah's groggy voice, "Ggrrrrmmmmhello? ..."

_I want my dream back!_

"...No, I can't talk right now. It's four in the morning, you dimwit ... yes, I just called you a dimwit. Don't make me do it again. Geez ... Fine ..."

_And I had just gotten to the good part._

"I'm with Catelyn ... yeah ... I know ..."

_Why can't I just flip back to that spot in my dream? Or better yet, why can't I start hearing pebbles at my window instead of taxi horns? Grrr._

"When will I get to see you again? ... Oh I forgot. I guess I can wait that long. I'm tired. Bye."

_Or, best of all, Adam and I can just finish the dream in real life! Ah, yes. That's the way to go... But would he want to? Ha. Yeah right... Why? WHY ME?_

Catelyn soon heard Hannah's breathing become rhythmic again, but found it impossible to fall asleep herself. She could still feel Adam holding her in his arms again, the warmth of his nearness, the wet, rough surface of his cheek; and remembering how close his lips were to hers still made her heart flutter. She held onto this dream as hard as she could even has she faded into a half-conscious state of slumber, for she feared that it was the closest that she would ever be to him.

The sun shining through the gauzy curtains woke Catelyn earlier than she had hoped. She scowled, not because she was bothered by the light, but because her dream had not continued further. She felt the mattress bounce violently.

"Catelyn! Get up!! We have some girl bonding time / shopping extravaganza to start!" Hannah sounded as if she were about to burst with excitement. Catelyn groaned, burying her head deeper in the pillow. The mattress continued bouncing, and she couldn't take it anymore.

"FINE! Fine. I'm coming. I'll get up."

"So- sweet dreams, perhaps? About your man?"

"Do I talk in my sleep?"

"Maybe we'll see him in Saks, or Nordstroms', or Sephora, or"-

"Sephora? What the heck would he be doing there?"

"HA! You're more awake than I thought. Well, he could be buying cologne, or buying his sweetheart a sensual massage oil-- sweetheart meaning _you_, of course"-

"Sensual massage? If that's what he was doing, I'd be disappointed. Not my type."

"So you more of the bathtub with candles and rosepetals type? 'cause I can't see you as the type who would think a dinner discussing presidential candidates over lasagna is romantic, or a one-on-one kickball game or something. Wow, definitely not that type! Wait, it's impossible to play that one-on-one... oh well, you know what I mean."

Catelyn blinked at Hannah a couple times, then swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Ugh. Morning breath."

"Huh?"

_I said that out loud?_ "Nothing. So we're going to Nordstrom's, Saks 5th Avenue, and Sephora?"

_What was I getting up to do again?_

"Well, yea. I mean, like Hollister or Urban Outfitters or something along those lines, because I don't know how many cute guys we'll find in the other stores."

_Oh right. Teeth. Brush teeth._

Catelyn stood up. "So are we shopping or boy-hunting today?"

"Well, I happen to be a fan of both, so..."

"Okay, fine."

"Ooh, YAY!! I knew I'd convert you, Catelyn!"

"No conversion. Only compliance."

After their "shopping extravaganza, the two friends ended up at a window seat in a coffee shop, people-watching as they sipped their beverages- Catelyn, of course, despised coffee so settled with a strawberry smoothie; Hannah had her "usual"- skim medium white mocha plus chocolate drizzle and double shot, no whip. She took a sip. "Mmm! Perfect as usual. The first time I ever ordered this was my first exam week in college, and was beyond desperate for caffeine. Henley persuaded me to do the double shot, so I owe her big now. It saved my GPA. Or, you know, what was left of it." She giggled.

Catelyn sipped from her smoothie, then winced at a brain freeze. "Who's Henley?"

"Oh, my bad! She was my roommate all frosh year. She isn't going to be this year though, because she's moving into an on-campus apartment with her fiance. They are too cute! I so wish you could meet them. Besides, you would totally fall in love with her shoes. It's totally amazing how enviable they are."

"Hmm. Did you know her before you went there?"

"No, but her fiance is from my hometown, so we knew each other a little. I mean, he even asked me which of his poems he should propose with! They are too cute. He's a perspiring songwriter, you know. And a phenomenal guitarist. He even knows Tom Higgins or whoever that Delilah guy is."

Catelyn frowned and sipped her smoothie slowly, making sure her brain wouldn't freeze again. "A perspiring songwriter?"

"Yeah, like he's trying to make it big, you know? Oh my gosh, no way. He texted the proposal poems to me when he asked for my advice, and I still have them right here on my phone! You want to hear them?"

"Umm..."

"Great! Here we go: 'You hear the whisper in the breeze, with the beat of my heart? It's my soul begging for the keys for your motor to start.' Adorable! Pretty sexy, too. Totally channelling Rihanna. Oh here's my favorite! 'Take my hand, follow me into the light. Then we'll shut our eyes and wish with all might. I might not know your wish, but here is mine: to be your man till the end of time. Marry me, Henley!'"

"Aww!"

"Yeah, I know, right? Is that not the cutest darn thing you've ever heard?! Of course that's the one I told him to use."

Catelyn smiled. "Heh, good choice. When are they getting married?"

"After she graduates."

"Oh, so he's what, a year or two ahead of her?"

"No, he's just dropping out. You know, to pursue his musical dreams and all. I don't see why she doesn't drop out too and pursue her own dreams of marrying her true love, but I think it's her parents. Because, I mean, seriously! Hud is just amazing"-

"The guy's name is Hud?"

"Yes. Like"-

"Henley and Hudson?"

"Mhm. So basically he's gorgeous. Well, _my_ idea of gorgeous. You know, tall, dark, handsome. Good pecs. And hands! Oh baby, _hands_. So beyond important. What about you? What is your dream man?" Hannah's eyes twinkled. "Or, should I have said what does dear Mr. _Bradford_ look like?"

"He's not Mr. Bradford, that's his dad's name," Catelyn said shyly.

Hannah gasped. "Oh I almost forgot, you've even met the millionaire yourself! Cate, you are well on your way to being an heiress."

"But isn't an heiress usually someone who inherits"-

"It's called life insurance, doll. Anyway, answer the question!"

"Oh. Sorry. I like him to be a good height, with pretty eyes and a sense of humor."

"So do you usually like them light or dark?"

"What? Um... is medium an option?"

Hannah grumbled. "If it must be to get this confession out of you."

"Medium is my preference. And he must be a gentleman."

"Aww, you are a good girl," Hannah said smiling. "Oh! Guess what! I have a surprise for you today. You will LOVE it. Let's go- oh, and don't forget that that smoothie!"

Catelyn was overwhelmed by her companion's spontaneity, and the iron grip on her wrist left her no option other than to follow along. She was quickly learning the consequences of being in Hannah's presence while she had caffeine in her system.

"So you know about my roommate Henley? Well, her cousin Carly was a junior and my psych tutor because I was totally about to flunk, and she gave me the background on the Carly-Devin scandal. Apparently Carly- well, you can guess how she was in highschool. She had, like, three boyfriends at a time her sophmore year (just imagine her _senior_ year! ughhh) and all of them were completely different. I really thought she was schitzo or something after hearing about it. Especially with all of the tutoring in psych. I could have used her as a case study or something if I was brave enough to get near her. Like, what kind of girl goes out with the all-American football-playing valedictorian (I mean, why would he want her anyway? She is UGLY), the pot-smoking self-pity-er, AND the chem teacher? Seriously, the girl has issues. Get this - her idea of a PB and J sandwich is crunchy natural peanut butter and lumpy plum jam. She said it was good for her digestion. Who uses jam as a digestive agent?"

But there were more problems than just incessant talking.

"_Catelyn! _OhmygodIhavetopee. NOW." She dashed into a smoky pizza joint, heading for the back.

Catelyn followed her inside, frowning at her friends misuse of the Lord's name. She was feeling more irritated than ever- even though it was probably due to her post-smoothie sugar crash, she believed she had the right to be frustrated. She hadn't even been able to say one word, and all she wanted to know is how many more blocks they would have to walk! She had a feeling they may have even walked in circles a couple times. She sat down on a stool in front of the window and, hoping to forget her frustration, pulled _Rebecca _out of her purse and opened it to the dog-eared page. She had hardly gotten three words in when she heard Hannah yelling at the store owner.

"What do you mean I have to buy something to use your restroom? Would you rather me buy something after I pee in the bathroom, or have me buy nothing but leave a puddle for you to clean up later?"

Catelyn heard his heavy footsteps and the unlocking of a door, then its slam. Catelyn continued her reading. A couple minutes later, two guys walked in front of the pizzeria then stopped. Suspecting they were looking at her, Catelyn lifted her eyes hesitantly, only to see that they were looking over her shoulder. She swiveled around on her squeaky stool and saw that Hannah had emerged from the bathroom and was adjusting her bra.

_Of course that was what they were watching. _Catelyn tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and continued reading until a sigh interrupted her.

"Catelyn! I can't even begin to tell you how much better I feel! Wow."

"Oh, good. How much longer do we have?"

"Oh, about three blocks."

"Where are we going? Or is that the surprise?"

"No, we're just going to a hotel. The surprise is our company!"

Catelyn's heart jumped. Her first fleeting thought was that she was going to see Adam and he would sweep her off her feet, but reality hit her hard enough that this thought shook off quickly, leaving Catelyn in a gloomy state of boredom. Naturally, this contrasted with Hannah's enthusiasm. By the time they arrived at the hotel, Catelyn was not in the mood for a "happy" surprise, but when she saw her brother Andrew in the lobby of the scummy hotel, all of her burdens and dark spirits were cast off and forgotten for good.

"Cate! I've missed you so much!" he cried as she ran into his arms.

"I can't believe you're here, Drew! This is crazy!" Catelyn turned in his embrace to Hannah. "How did you know? Do you even know each other?"

"Ah, well, you see... oh, there you are Nelson! Catelyn, meet my big brother, your brother's roommate."

She stepped back from her brother, looking behind him to see a pale-eyed man approaching with a crooked grin on his face.

"Hey there, Miss Catelyn," he drawled. "It is a _pleasure_ to meet you."


End file.
